kaleidoSCOPE
by Erina-chan
Summary: Historical romance set in the mid 16th Century - England Contains dark elements, war, arranged marriage, abuse, sex and death. COMPLETELY REVISED & RESTRUCTURED AUG '03.
1. 1 : Flowers

Revised SUMMER 2003 and taken off hiatus. Expect updates.

Revision notes: Have changed original insert characters into characters from the anime. Have taken out all references of Pokémon themselves. Changed timeline of events. I suggest you re-read the eight revised parts before the updates! Thank you! 

~*~

**__**

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Kaleidoscope: Prologue

Southern England, 1449

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Risborough Manor, 55 miles from London

It was one of those perfect, deliciously warm Saturday mornings in June, when you feel you'll burst from pure energy and want to stay outside forever. Misty's face broke through the cool stream water, as she heard rapid footsteps approaching. Quickly, she scrambled up the muddy riverbank and yanked her white cotton shift on over her still damp body. 

****

"Misty?" A voice rang through the humid stillness of the orchard, and Misty breathed a sigh of relief.

****

"I'm over here Violet!" Violet Waterflower laughed as the red-head of her younger sister appeared sheepishly over the muddy rise by the water.

****

"Misty! Oh you haven't been swimming in that filthy water again? If Dame Tatham catches you again, she may tell father!" Misty grimaced, at both the mention of her strict nurse, and her boorish stepfather, Sir Thomas.

****

"Dame Tatham won't know!" she laughed gaily. **"The sun will dry my hair, and unless you tell her…" **Misty laughed as her younger sister pulled a face. **"Come, help me up sister." **As Violet helped her up, Misty tugged impishly at her navy braided hair.

****

"Oh, why do you insist on calling that man our father?" Misty suddenly asked, her tone condescending. **"He is nothing but an impious fraud. He posed as a friend of our father, but surely that did not entitled him to the remains of his life and livelihood? Do you really think he cares for Mama? He just loves to brag about her relations - My cousin, the Duke of Aylesbury he brawls! It sickens me!" **Misty stopped abruptly, partly for breath, partly because she noticed her eldest sister Daisy approaching. At 12 years of age, she had already been 'matured' by her stepfather's friends, but still managed to carry herself as a lady - the daughter of a lady, and a gallant knight. Misty wished she had such dignity left. Daisy smiled warmly at her sisters.

****

"Speaking of our cousins? What timing! Mama and Sir Thomas have just informed me we are to spend the summer with them!" Misty and Violet grinned conspiratorially one another. Their stepfather was too frightened of displeasing Lord Aylesbury, who doted on his children, and those of his wife's first cousin, Lady Waterflower-Boddington, that he didn't dare beat or mistreat them in any way!

****

"I heard that their stable boy was promoted to full fledged Squire!" continued Daisy, pushing a rogue tendril of honey blonde hair behind her ear. **"Can you imagine our stable-hand Jack serving tea for Mama or in actual combat!?" **she laughed, grinning slightly at her lapse in propriety. Violet joined her in tittering lady-like laughter. Misty did not. She was already fuming with childish rage.

The last time she had had the inconvenience of being in the presence of her uncle's stable-boy had been two summers ago – the month she had turned seven years old. It had seemed to her that the boy had intentionally spent the entire trip making her life a misery! Continuously poking her, short-sheeting her bed, pulling her braids, putting custard in her shoes…every stupid immature trick you could think of - he did it at one point or another. 

As she silently followed her elder sisters along the dirt path etched in the green of the manor house, Misty kept her eyes to the ground and tried her hardest to rhythm her footsteps with Daisy's.

~*~

The day of their journey dawned as a bright, verdant English summer morning, and Lady Rose regally led her daughters, lined by age, into their large, gilded family carriage. Dame Tatham brought up the rear, fussing over Violet's braids, and the state of the back of Lily's dress. Misty was away in a dream world – would it be appropriate for her to indulge in some form of revenge? She could still remember every rivet of his young features. Scruffy dark hair that badly needed combing, laughing dark eyes and cheeks that were perpetually dirty. They all provoked a most unlady-like reaction in her.

The Waterflower-Boddington carriage pulled up to the Aylesbury manor sometime later. Duke Albert and Duchess Emilia came out to greet their cousins, flanked either side with children from their large family. As soon as she vacated the carriage, Misty felt herself involuntarily look around for the stable lad. As a strange youth took their horses away, it dawned on her that if he were training as a squire she wouldn't really see him. She smiled to herself.

Misty was startled out of her thoughts as two of her giggling cousins, Cecily and Emilia appeared, and dragged the four sisters away to their rooms.

~*~

Misty lightly frowned. You would have never thought that damask slippers and a simple cotton shift would make so much noise. Although it had been two years since she walked these halls, she remembered the quick ways, the secret ways, the safe ways that led to the courtyards. Despite the extensive grounds of the building, it took mere minutes until Misty was lying on the hay piles in the stable, cocooned safely in the scratchy material.

She loved it here. She assumed that there must be subconscious memories of a younger her, snuggled securely in the stables of her manor. But since her father died, only the livestock that were absolutely essential had been spared. The rest had been sold. Now the stables of the Risborough manor would hold little pleasure, even if she were permitted to be in there. When I am a lady, I shall make sure my children can sleep in the hay. The gentle snorts and whinneys of the horses in the stalls, lulled Misty to a doze.

As she was about to fall into deeper sleep, she became aware of a presence beside her and stiffened. She knew instantly it wasn't Sir Thomas, for he would have already grabbed her and pulled her up by her hair. Plus he had an unmistakable odour of garlic and rotting meat. 

Gently, she felt something trail up her cheek, so gently, she was unsure at first of whether it was just wind. As the pressure continued along her skin it became more recognisable as a fingertip, moving a lock of orange hair from her closed eyes . As they shot open, the figure jumped up from its crouching position beside her and moved back in alarm.

****

"I-I-I'm sorry miss, I-I just wanted to c-check that you were alright!" The figure had now backed nervously into a beam of moonlight that had sneaked through a crack in the stable roof and Misty immediately recognised who it was. She tried to stand up regally, but it was difficult to look authoritative covered in hay. She decided to play it safe by pretending not to remember his name.

****

"Who are you?" she demanded.

****

"I'm Ash - erm, Ashton Ketchum from the town of Palletonshire Lady Misty. Look, I'm really sorry I woke you, please don't tell Master Aylesbury - hey…waitasec!" Misty glowered at the ex-stable hand, who stood cockily in front of her, glowering right back. **"What are you doing out alone in the stables at this time? From what I've heard about your father, he'll beat you black and blue if he finds out you've been here!"**

"He's not my father!" Misty snapped, immediately. 

****

"I know," said Ash quietly. The two children silently surveyed each other.

****

"Please don't tell Sir Thomas," pleaded Misty, her fear of her stepfather enough to override her pride. **"He'll beat me again; he would take joy in it." **Ash could hear the ringing emotion in her voice, and smiled at her awkwardly. 

****

"I-I won't tell him miss, but there are other servants 'round here that won't be so nice. You'd better go back to your room." Misty nodded sleepily, and with one last polite smile, she ran quietly down the gravel path, her frame still shaking slightly with fear at the thought of being discovered by Sir Thomas.

Turning with a sigh, Ash began to rake the pile of hay back into its former position. Even though it wasn't his job anymore, he loved working in the stables. 

He had been serving at the Aylesbury Manor so long, he could barely remember his mother. His father had died of consumption before Ash had seen his first summer and his mother had been strong-willed enough to continue to run the agricultural estate he had left behind. Her son, her heir and only child had been so precious to her that she had even denied herself his help, and sent him to the Aylesbury manor so he could grow to be a fine man under the patronage of Duke Aylesbury. She only existed for him in soft-pastel memories, and the letters that came through with the merchants from the Northeast twice a year.

Ash thoughts lingered to little Lady Misty. He didn't know what to do with her. Propriety demanded he treat her as the lady she was by name and birth, but nature always persuaded him to treat her like a male friend. He imagined his mother much like her – a strong woman in a world of weak men. He pictured an older Misty sitting in the blurred parlour from his memories, simpler clothes, simpler life, simple smile.

With this shyly satisfying image held tight in his mind, he satisfactorily poked the last strands in place with the end of his pitchfork, returned it to its place and walked into the summer night.

****


	2. 2 : Mountains

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Kaleidoscope: 1

Southern England, 1555

****

"Violet?" Misty grunted with annoyance as she caught the hem of her dress on yet another plant. Dresses with such floaty skirts were completely useless - you couldn't do a thing in them! **"Violet Hanada-Waterflower!" **she demanded, using her sister's whole name, although she couldn't bring herself to add on 'Boddington'. **"If I had known I was this annoying when I was out hiding, I'd have never done it," **she mumbled to herself as she sought her sister's elusive self. 

She grinned as she caught sight of a dark head of hair gently nodding up and down behind a grassy tuffet. Misty rounded it and grinned down at her younger sister's sleeping form, stretched out in the sun. At 16, Violet's hair was still a lustrous navy, and even Lady Rose had given up hope that it would turn honey blonde like Daisy's. **"Get up you," **Misty persisted, poking her sister forcefully with the pointed toe of her shoe. Violet slumped downwards on the grass, yawning and stretching. She turned her angry brandy eyes onto her sister and glared at her.

****

"WHAT?" she exclaimed. Misty looked at Violet incredulously. 

****

"What's wrong with you, simpleton? Tomorrow's the Harvest Festival!" Violet looked unimpressed, and stifled another yawn.

****

"Then I shall deal with that tomorrow," she said, just before rolling over to try to go back to sleep. Misty grunted, and rolled her straight back.

****

"Idiot! Our cousins of Aylesbury are spending the holiday with us this year! They'll be here quite soon and Mama and Dame Tatham are trying to get us all to look at least halfway respectable!" Violet grinned and jumped up.

****

"Lord, but it has been ages since we've saw them!" She paused as she tried to count back. **"Must be five - no wait - six years! I wonder if dear Cecily is due to marry? I've been hearing rumours that she's sweet on that eldest son of the Lord of Pewterbury…" **Violet's voice droned on, but Misty wasn't listening. 

Instinctively, herhand reached up and her nail traced down the side of her face. She hadn't forgotten the way he had touched her cheek so tenderly. Misty's mother was a harrowed woman, and although she loved her daughters devoutly, she would never hug them, or show them any affection. The only softness Misty could remember was from her father, but he had died soon after she was born, the night of Lily's fourth birthday.

Misty began to think. If Ash is training as a Squire, of course he's going to come with Uncle Albert… The thought of dealing with him in her own territory, made Misty feel better. She had no idea why she was feeling so apprehensive. She had never felt anything like this before.

~*~

Miracles do happen, Dame Tatham wryly praised. In less than 2 hours, the Waterflower girls were all lined up outside the Manor. It was when they were lined for such functions that Misty felt the absence of her eldest sister Daisy most strongly. Rumours that she had heard outside the Church in the village swam back to her. 

__

Sir Branwell must have taken to her again. She was here praying all evening. It has been nigh on two years and yet she will not conceive. She is being punished for her sins. A damned woman shall not bear fruit, Sir Branwell should have known that.

Her fist tightened. Dame Tatham scrutinised them for their final inspection, as the gilded carriage slowed to a stop, forcing the servant's carriage behind them to break sharply. The footman quickly jumped down and held the door open as the younger children of the family tumbled out, relieved at being liberated from the wooden prison.

A gloved hand appeared from the stuffy darkness of the carriage, and Duchess Emilia was helped out. She was followed by her namesake daughter and her husband, Duke Albert. Last of all, an unfamiliar face hopped out of the carriage to help the Lady Cecily out. Lily bent down to whisper in Violet's ear.

****

"That's Lord Flint's eldest son," she whispered incoherently. 

Misty's aqua eyes were already fixed on the servant's carriage…which annoyingly kept moving to the back of the estate. Misty released her eyes from the diminishing carriage with a sigh, and greeted her cousins accordingly. 

~*~

Ash stared at it. He couldn't believe it. He's been at the Boddington Manor one day and he'd already ruined something. Not a big something, just a painting. It used to be a beautiful watercolour of a river, but now all it was a smushed up piece of cartridge paper with muddy paw prints on it. Ash examined the ruined art carefully, and then he saw it. And his heart fell.

In the corner were the artist's initials. M.W

Ash's heart leapt up again. It couldn't be hers. Whilst he was still staring at it, he failed to hear the footsteps, purposely quiet behind him.

Misty saw his back as she entered her sitting room. She knew it was him immediately, and wondered just what he was doing in the private wing. She crept up behind him to see what he was looking at so intently, and saw it was one of her paintings. A recent one that she had done out of boredom. It wasn't even one of her best ones, but she did feel a slight pang when she saw how ruined it was. She cleared her throat, and Ash whirled around, something close to fear in his dark eyes…but not quite.

****

"Would you like to explain to me, good sir, why you are in the sitting room designated for my sisters and I, and what has happened to my painting?"

"Well, er, you see miss. I'm…"

"I know who you are."

"Right. Well, you see, your cousin's young hound, it was er, in high spirits after being kept in the carriage…" Ash hung his head. **"I'm sorry miss…" **he whispered into his chest, mentally kissing his chances of being knighted for high service goodbye. 

Misty looked at the top of his head with amusement. She cared nothing for the painting. She found it rather entertaining that this arrogant boy had been reduced to remorse so easily. Shyly, he looked up from underneath his hair, and saw that the slightly forced expression on her face had been replaced with a more natural one, of amusement. 

Hesitantly, Misty reached out her arm and gently touched Ash's shoulder as a symbol of forgiving. Somewhere deep inside, she was aware that part of her disliked him still, but the smaller minority. She barely knew him, and he was way below her station in life, but she had a great respect for the former stable hand. He felt warm under her fingertips, through his tunic, despite the cold in the room around them. She knew he would be.

He raised his head fully, and awkwardly smiled at her. Misty smiled back at his bashful, crooked grin but then quickly broke the contact by stopping down to pick up the picture and scrunching it into a ball. She looked him wistfully in the eyes again, before starting to speak.

****

"I don't think anybody has to know about this if you would leave this area of the manor quickly," she murmured.

****

"You mean it miss?!" Misty smiled awkwardly as she shoved the parchment into a drawer.

****

"You did not reveal me…" she slammed the drawer shut. **"…so I should return the favour. Now, I wish to sleep. Please leave." **

On an act of impulse, Ash reached out for Misty's hand. He brought the creamy skin to his lips and kissed it softly. As he dropped her hand a second later, he gave it a slight squeeze.

****

"Goodnight milady…" he whispered, as he backed out the door, drinking in the way she looked standing there in her elegant dinner dress with her hair already liberated from it's braids for the night, floating around her head and cascading down her back. Then he was gone.

Misty stood in the centre of the room for a second, disorientated. Her mind was spinning, and her hand was burning. She could still feel the two prominent places where his lips had touched her… 

~*~

Ash partly skipped into the room he was sharing with Master Brock of Pewterbury; Lady Cecily's secret fiancé. Sighing, he pushed the door closed with his body, and leaned against it for a moment, relieving the past few minutes. He knew it was one of those things that you never relive, yet never forget.

****

"Whatever ails you?" called Brock from his bed across the room. "**You're sighing so deeply I'm being blown away!" **Ash couldn't even make the effort to laugh at Brock's weak joke. He staggered across the room and collapsed on his bed.

****

"Wait, wait, wait…" said Brock slyly. **"I know this… this is far too reminiscent of myself friend. You must be infatuated!" **Ash turned around and looked at Brock, slightly embarrassed. He propped himself up on a pillow so he could see Brock better, and sighed again.

****

"I think you're right, friend," he said wistfully. Brock laughed, and moved to the edge of Ash's bed to enhance the conversation, twirling the twig he had just used to clean his teeth between his fingers.

****

"So who is the lucky wench who'll be the future Lady Ketchum?" Ash smiled wryly, rolling over and blowing out the candle on his bedside table with a sharp exhalation to signify the conversation was over.

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"She's not a wench Brock… I'll have you know she is a lady."


	3. 3 : Birds

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Kaleidoscope: 2

Southern England, 1555

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Misty woke the next morning, already smiling. She knew exactly how she wanted to spend her day.

****

"Uncle Albert!" Misty wailed, as she ran into her Aunt and Uncle's suite. Duke Albert had always had a soft spot for her.

****

"Dear Heavens, child! What's the matter?" he answered, astonished.

****

"All my servants and helpers are busy getting the Harvest Feast set up, and I need one!!"

"Of course you do my dear! Good Lord - how many servants does your stepfather employ? Must not be many I assume. Now dear, go down to the kitchen, and my personal Squire Ashton shall stay with you today. Now…is that better sweet child?"

"Much… God bless you Uncle Albert!"

~*~

****

"Now, which one of you is my uncle's Squire Ashton?" Ash heard the now familiar voice, and stared at Misty in confusion. Surely she couldn't have forgotten him already. He'd barely been able to sleep all night - although granted it was partly because Brock talked in his sleep and Ash was used to hearing his questionable dreams in great detail, but mainly because he just couldn't get her off his mind. Misty caught his eye, and winked at him.

****

"Erm, I am milady."

"Good!" she began, her eyes shining mischievously at him. **"My uncle wishes for you to be my manservant today. Come along now, make haste!**

"Yes Ma'am!"

~*~

Ash and Misty spent the day lolling around in the woods behind the Manor. Misty was so relieved at having someone to talk to. She had always craved for friendship, and companionship - as had Ash in a different way. He was simply happy at having found someone on his own wavelength – someone who wasn't bothered about titles and money - even though she had both and he did not. 

Ash and Misty told each other everything about their lives - holding nothing back. They both knew that they had a rare resource in the fact that they connected so well. Also unsaid, yet mutually dwelled upon was the fact that they did not know when they would next see each other.

During the day, Ash's eyes keep creeping back to Misty's face. At the Aylesbury Manor, he saw countless "Ladies", each in more spectacular attire and makeup than the last; but he'd never seen anyone like Misty. She was simply beautiful - like a confused 7-year-old him had though upon first meeting her. He didn't know what it was that drew him to her so; maybe it was because she didn't act like she was made of precious jewels, and was the first lady to ever see him as a person, and not the hired help.

Ash wondered. He was still far too young to understand what was being to grow inside him, but he was already thinking ahead. He was already wondering if Misty would like him more if he were knighted by her Uncle for high service…

~*~

The two of them lay on a blanket of fallen leaves, the crowns of their heads barely touching as they silently observed the purpling evening sky. Misty felt Ash rouse, and sat up too, grinning at him through sleepy eyes as she smoothed down the hem of her gown. Ash grinned back, as he mischievously attempted to rumple the pale silk again. She quickly manoeuvred her legs to foil him. Ash sighed inaudibly, as he watched her stand, the silk of her overdress cascading past her hips and the hem settling by her ankles.

****

"I need to wash before the feast," she murmured, her eyes creasing slightly as she looked back in the direction of the manor house. **"Oh spite, back to lessons tomorrow," **she mildly cursed, her fingertips already beginning to ache with the prospect of three hours of embroidery. She felt Ash rise obediently behind her and smiled. Her free days of leisure were few and far between, but she was glad she had spent one with him.

They were halfway to the manor house before Ash realised that Misty had slipped her arm around his, and he was leading her through the twilight gardens like a gentleman suitor. Without dwelling on it, he lifted his free hand and placed it on her bare forearm, like he had seen his master do when walking with the Duchess Emilia. She was cold under his coarse palm but she did not object.

The two walked in a companionable silence until they approached the back gates and Misty slipped from him like water.

****

"God save you friend. I shall see you at the feast," were her last words before hurrying self-consciously towards the kitchen steps. Ash didn't watch her go. He felt her absence on his skin; he knew they would never speak again.


	4. 4 : Demons

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Kaleidoscope: 3

Southern England, 1555

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"Ave Maria, grati a plenta, dominus, tecum, benedicta tu."

Misty sang softly to herself as she wriggled into yet more yards of silk. She studied her reflection, and groaned. A lavender coloured puffball stared angrily out at her. Misty sighed, and scrutinised every inch of herself in the looking glass. Steeping away from her reflection, Misty gently swayed her dress, feeling the silk slide across her bare legs underneath. She glided around the room, guided by unseen hands. She pretended she was dancing with Ash, that she felt his hand on hers once more. 

Suddenly, her door flew open, creating an unusually cold draught, and a powerful hand grabbed her viciously by the wrist and yanked her to a standstill. Misty looked up as defiantly as she dared at her stepfather. 

****

"Stop that noise!" he growled at her.

****

"Wh-what displeases you, sir?" Misty asked meekly.

****

"You child!" he roared. **"You and your infernal singing!" **Misty shuddered as he spat over her, and his foul breath overwhelmed her. She hated him. It took a lot for someone like Misty to resort to hating someone, but she hated him. He was the one who had been the darkness for time immemorial. Once there had been light, but she could not remember it. She forced herself to look into his sunken bloodshot eyes again.

****

"My apologies sir. It will not happen again." For some reason, this seemed very funny to Sir Thomas, as a rumbling sound emitted from his throat that Misty could only guess was sardonic laughter.

****

"You're damned right that it won't," he half threatened, before releasing her roughly and striding out her door, slamming it behind him. 

~*~

Misty and her cousin Emilia proceeded down the stairs together. Emilia was all chit-chat, talking about her marriage options, Misty wasn't listening at all. Usually, Sir Thomas threatened her more than twice a day, and she ignored him. But there was something about this particular, unknown threat. Something harrowing about his words that made Misty dread the coming feast. She could feel things changing around her.

Emilia excused herself when the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, and immediately delved into dignified conversation with her elder sister Cecily and the elder son of the Lord of Pewterbury to the west. Misty sighed as she leaned against the back of a pillar, trying to hide. She hated this part - all the rich Lords and Ladies from miles around congregating in a crowd of wax scent, thick wine and arrogance. 

Then, suddenly, Ash was there, and smiling innocently, he grabbed her arm gently and pulled her into the vacant drawing room next to the ballroom. 

****

"You are too bold!" Misty gaped. **"Hands are not permitted to attend this function! You must leave, you must not risk your apprenticeship for me!"**

"Do not fret yourself, mi'lady," said Ash, striking a pose. **"I would brave this, and a thousand times moreover for you, dear lady!" **He stopped as he saw Misty was staring at him cynically. He lowered his head. **"Erm…Duke Albert wants this to be my first function as his squire. But I am relieved of duties until the meal…"**

"That rings more like the truth!" laughed Misty. **"But I appreciate the lie!" **Misty studied Ash, and had to try hard not to burst out laughing. He was wearing what she assumed to be one of her male cousin's outfits, with a big felt hat with a feather in it. It was so far off from his open neck shirt and scruffy breeches.

****

"You look nice," Ash murmured, the note of sincerity in his voice meaning more to Misty than all the flowered compliments in the world.

****

"You exaggerate," she smiled. **"You look… most respectable." **

The two of them headed back to the main ballroom, just in time, as Sir Thomas was introducing "his" daughters. Misty had to yank her arm away from Ash's and run quickly to the front of the room, trying hard not to look at Sir Thomas's steely gaze, and not to think of the beating she would get when the guests went home.

Stepping away from her sisters after the introductions, Misty quickly lost herself in the crowd of people. Suddenly, she felt a hand slide down the back of her skirt. She whirled around in horror, to come face to face with Sir Gary Oak; one of her stepfather's flunkies. He was a man in his forties, greying, balding, very obese and short, and had breath as bad as Sir Thomas's.

****

"Good sir…" she warned, through gritted teeth. **"You will kindly keep your hands to yourself!" **Defiantly, she grabbed her skirts and hurried off to where she could see Ash's dark head in the crowd. The whole group moved out of the manor, and arrived in the Town Square for the Harvest Feast.

~*~

Ash did not know how much depended on this meal, so as a result he was petrified and preoccupied at getting everything correct, keeping an eye on the people further up the table and copying their every movement. Misty was one of these people – she spoke animatedly to one of her sisters now as she dabbed a hunk of bread in her broth, her smiles as yeomen from the village came up and wished her family good fortune and health lighting up the night far more effectively than the candles.

Ash almost slipped back into slovenly table manners as he watched her. I met her nine years ago, but I have known her but a day. I can't help but strive to be near her. I feel like I have known her forever and will know her for all eternity. What does this mean?

****

"Attention, please!" called Duke Albert. **"My Lady-wife and I have something to announce." **A sea of faces, the entire village turned to him, and he smiled warmly as the Duchess Emilia stood up and took his hand. **"This is a fine night! I am glad to be spending such a temperate eve with such fine people!" **This politeness raised a cheer from the slightly tipsy crowd that were sitting around the square. **"I am both pleased and privileged to announce that my eldest daughter, Lady Cecily…" **He indicated with his gesturing arm, and Cecily stood up, and curtseyed gracefully. **"…is to be given in marriage to the eldest son of my dear friend, Sir Flint! Young Sir Brock, I am happy to welcome you into our family!" **

As Brock stood up to give Cecily a chaste kiss, and shake the hand of Duke Albert, everyone applauded sincerely and racuously. Ash felt a slight pang in his chest. _Sir_, and Lady. Ever since he was young, all he had ever wanted was to give his mother descendants of status equal to those of her squanderous ancestors. In his fantasies, imminent war would threaten England, and he would rise to the challenge and be awarded the status of Knight. As the boisterous applause went on, Ash contemplated his desire again, but in a new variation, he mounted his Rapidash, rode to the Boddington Manor and claimed-- Ash shook his head violently, as if he wanted to physically shake the thought out. 

Suddenly, there was a tinkling sound, as someone hit the side of their ale jug. Everyone looked up expectantly, as Sir Thomas stood up; Lady Rose standing beside him, looking sickly and faint. He made no move to hold her hand.

****

"Ladies, and, um…gentlemen," he began, obviously incapacitated with drink. **"I too have a…joyous occasion to announce. It is the marriage of _my_** **dear daughter - Lady Misty Boddington." **A ripple of noise went through the crowd, and the people who knew who Misty was, pointed her out to those who didn't. 

Misty sat at the table, staring into space. She couldn't think straight. He'd said her name…he was marrying her off to get rid of her? Her mind cleared, and she looked up at Sir Thomas with renewed hatred.

****

"My marriage, sir?" echoed Misty, faintly. Sir Thomas beamed at her, but his eyes were hard and cold.

****

"Yes, darling daughter. To an old dear friend of mine. He's quite taken with you, my dear. Ardent as a man half his age!" Sir Thomas indicated to the left of him, and Sir Gary stood up fumbling, wiping his greasy hands on his breeches, and smiled a yellow-toothed smile at his betrothed. Misty stomach churned. 

****

"But cousin Thomas, she is yet young in the world!" argued Duke Albert. **"Let her be at least a summer more! You have two daughters more ripe than she." **

"The girl is 15. By all points considered it is overdue for all three, I admit. Yet Sir Gary has chosen, and I believe he has chosen wisely."

"But -" began Duke Albert.

****

"ENOUGH!" screamed Misty, finding her voice and rising in fury, pounding the thick wooden table so hard the dishes clattered. **"Hell below will be as cold as Winter solstice before that despicable oaf covets me!" **Sir Thomas advanced on her menacingly, a look of rage and disbelief in his small eyes. 

****

"Wretched girl! It is not your place to tell me whom you shall or shall not marry! How dare you? I stand in place of a father to you, and if I choose to give you in marriage to Sir Gary, you will respect my wishes! No, my ORDER!" Misty had no answer, her face was pale. **"Now, seal the precontract."**

Sir Gary sidled up to her, and before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms and clamped his wet lips on her soft ones, almost bruising them. Her senses were overwhelmed. He tasted like ale and garlic and clammy skin. Misty's stomach heaved again, and before she could stop herself, she shoved him away so hard that he stumbled, and fell into a puddle of mud. He smirked at her, as his servants helped him up.

****

"Little wildcat," he purred, as he locked her in his gaze. **"Wait till I have you alone!"**

"Hell will freeze over!" Misty repeated, as she backed away frantically, almost stumbling over the leg of the wooden bench.

****

"You DARE defy me, girl?" yelled Sir Thomas.

****

"I am the daughter of a Knight! I am the daughter of a great man! I will marry a worthy gentleman, and you will not prevent it!" 

With a cry of rage, Sir Thomas leapt at her, and grabbed her shoulder so hard she cried out in pain. His lips were white with anger. There were cries of protest from Lady Rose, the Duke and Duchess and Violet. Everyone else was too scared to move. 

****

"I am not yours, and I shall never be his," Misty stated defiantly, then cried out in pain as Sir Thomas's fist shot out, and caught the side of her face. She couldn't believe he was daring to beat her, in front of the whole village and Duke Aylesbury. He must be very drunk.

That was it. Ash snapped into action, and jumped from the table. From the punch, Misty was now on the floor, her head reeling, and her top lip dripped salty blood. She was disorientated, but as she looked up at her stepfather from her hands and knees, she smiled.

****

"Never…" she whispered, before Sir Thomas advanced on her again in fury, and the last thing she heard before the bliss of unconsciousness took over, were the deep voices of her uncle and Ash, roaring in ire.

~*~

When she came to, she was only aware of darkness and silence, save for skin-crawling scratching noises from the unseen corners. Her head felt heavy, and pain behind her eyes protested as she lifted it. Flakes of dried blood fell as she rotated her aching jaw.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she realised she was in the gatehouse room, that was no longer used. She and her sisters had been sent here as young children when they had misbehaved. She was lying on an ancient wooden bed, the mattresses stuffed with mouldy straw, and covered by an itchy, thin woollen blanket. As for the scratching noises, she could hear…

****

"Rats…" she whispered, petrified. She tucked herself back into the bed, the blanket made out of sacking material that scratched her bare skin. Sir Thomas means to starve me, terrify me and beat me until I agree to marry Sir Gary…God only knows how long he's going to keep me in here, she realised, dismally.

The straw rustled again, and she made out the hiss of a rat from the far side of the room. Her courage wavered. Can I do it? Can I live in here until they have to let me out? She didn't know if she could. She'd have to try and escape. She didn't know where she'd go - anywhere but here. I'm getting ahead of myself,****she thought sadly. She had been locked in here for hours at a time as a younger child. There was no means of escape.

She got out of the bed again, and walked shivering over to where there was a small slit of a window. She brushed the cobwebs away from the gap, and a little more light entered the room. She looked out at the cloudy, threatening sky. It was odd to think that earlier she had watched the sky at its most beautiful with Ash, and now it, and everything, looked so different. 


	5. 5 : Clouds

****

Kaleidoscope: 4

Southern England, 1555

Left right, left right.

Ash paced impatiently up and down the hallway outside his master's bedroom, uncaring if the rich velvet carpet was folding under his marching feet. Barely back at the Aylesbury manor three days and his master had called him to his chambers to discuss something in a received letter. Three days since their return from the Waterflower-Boddington manor…

Ash felt sick to his stomach again and a wave of piercing guilt hit him between the eyes as he recollected his last moments there.

__

[::==START FLASHBACK==::]

As he threw the saddle over the young steed's back and gently patted its stomach, Ash became aware of a presence behind him. Whirling cautiously around, he was only confronted with his long shadow cast over the stable wall by the moonlight. He returned to his work. He had to get all the horses saddled and bridled up - the master and mistress wished to leave at once. In fact, Duchess Emilia was in Lady Rose's boudoir at that moment, trying to persuade her cousin to leave Sir Thomas and return with them. 

He could sense the presence behind him again, and turned around quickly, coming face to face with a pair of scrutinising brandy eyes, framed by a scruffy fringe.

****

"Miss Violet," he muttered, jerkily and absentmindedly bowing. **"What are you doing out here at this time of night?" **Before he had a chance to continue, the seemingly petite and weak girl grabbed his shirt with surprising strength and gritted her teeth.

****

"How can you even think of leaving her?" she whispered harshly, her grip tightening on his collar. **"It's your fault she's in there!"**

"Hold on, it is no fault of mine that you've got a damned dictator for a stepfather!" retorted Ash angrily, tears pricking the back of his eyes at the accusing sixteen year old. Violet ignored the unholy language and looked at him, the confusion in her eyes mingling with the sadness and guilt in his dark brown ones. Her grip loosened.

****

"Di-didn't you make her…" Violet bit her lip, knowing it was unholy to talk of such things, especially to a person of Ash's standard. **"…unpure?" **Ash exploded into laughter, quickly subsiding when Violet glared at him - showing her resemblance to her older sister well. 

****

"Hell- um, sorry, no! Whatever gave you that idea?" Violet let go, tears slivering down her face, pale and silver in the moonlight.

****

"My-my nurse Dame Tatham says that if you-" Her cheeks coloured again. **"-perform such acts out of wedlock, you are no longer pure and holy and the Lord will not protect you…and He, in His infinite wisdom, did not see fit to protect my sister today…" **The tears fell faster. **"And she spent all day in the orchard with you…so I thought…" **Ash shook his head, lost for words. Violet's face relented, then clouded over angrily again

****

"But you are still leaving - this is when she needs her friends and kinsmen the most."

"I'm sorry - dear God you have no idea how sorry I am - but in duty I am tied to your uncle, and I must go where he goes. I go where he tells me, I eat what he tells me, I wear what he tells me…" Ash's voice lowered as he adjusted the final saddle, on a sleepy looking horse, trying hard to control the level of emotion in his words. **"I have to go." **He looked down at Violet's widening eyes, brimming with tears, as her clenched fists by her cheekbones shook with a mixture of grief and disbelief

****

"I understand." Ash had to look away. Her anguished whisper sounded so much like her elder sister. Violet turned on her slight heel and raised her hand to the stable door. **"I am not a man," **she murmured, not turning around. **"I am not a mother, yet I am not a child. I am nobody in this world, yet I will not leave my sister to die. And if she will not comply and marry that man, death will be her only option.**

Without a further comment, Violet turned and ran down the path to the main house; her fabricated, gloved shoes slapping against the hard path, and her caramel coloured overdress flowing behind her. Ash was left alone as it started to rain. 

It came down in sheets, torrents of stinging water falling from the heavens, as if they were angry at the chain of events. Ash let his head dangle backwards, the rain hitting him like a thousand tiny hands slapping him angrily. The angry purple rain-clouds rolled relentlessly over the valley and the only spot where you could still see the stars in the navy band of sky was positioned above the gatehouse. A tiny peep hole to another world.

[::==END FLASHBACK==::]

Sighing dejectedly, Ash leant against the large bay windows in the hallway as he continued to wait. It was only late afternoon, but the outside world was dark and cold. It hadn't stopped raining since that night. Duchess Emilia bustled motherly around the castle, draping her expensive fur coats and stoles around the servants as they worked, ensuring the fires were stoked and blazing merrily. She was a kind woman; an old acquaintance of his mother Lady Delia - and his second mother in heart. 

The large gilded door slowly creaked open, and the Duke squinted out from the smoky room.

****

"Ashton? Ash, my boy, are you still there?" Ash moved away from the window and into full view. He shivered with excitement, momentarily forgetting the girl he'd left stranded alone in her despair at his childish glee at being treated grown up and mature. **"Ah there you are boy - come in, come in - don't be shy."**

~*~

Ash's dark eyes widened in horror as he read and re-read the letter…

Rioters? In civilised England? They were all perfectly happy under the rule of King Lance and his queen, Karen… He ruled fairly and justly, but it seemed his distant Italian cousin had landed off the coast ofFuschiaster and had spies in many households. Random words flew from the paper. Alert. Army. Battle.

Silently, Duke Albert plucked the paper from the youth's shaking hands, as the other men in the room looked on worriedly. Ash looked up, panicked.

****

"Does this mean-"

"It means we are at war. For king and country. The message gives further instructions to prepare our households for battle," Albert interrupted gravely. **"As you are yet young, I asked that you may be left out for a few months, but as you are my squire, you must follow me to battle. I am not going to hide the dangers that lay ahead of us. All I can say is that you are a brave and spirited lad, and I'm sure you will continue to make me proud." **Ash's eyes filled with yet more tears as the men in the room throatily agreed.

Duke Albert cleared his throat to speak again.

****

"Ash, you have a week until we depart for Indigo Palace in London. I release you from my service for this time period. Use it wisely."

~*~

An hour later, Ash bundled all his bags hastily onto the loaned horse's back and urged it forwards, ignoring the wind and rain as he urged and encouraged the stubborn animal onwards over fields and into the valley of Risborough. As the sky began to turn pink, he knew he had entered Risborough when he saw the dark shape of the manor house in the distance. 

~*~

****

Misty paced around and around the tiny room, stamping her feet so hard they ached, hoping to deter any rodent who had its mind set on leaping out from the dark corners. Broken spirited, Misty threw herself down on the wooden plank bed, ignoring it's protesting creak under her weight. Misty's whole body ached - across the room sat the plate of stale bread crusts and the glass of well water - all Sir Thomas allowed them to give her. Lily had tried to sneak her through some apples from the orchard, but was caught by Sir Thomas, who had beaten her soundly.

****

"Misty?" came a voice She blinked. Violet?

****

"Misty?" A different voice called. Less familiar than that of her sister's, yet more so. 

****

"Sister? A-ash?" she asked haltingly. Suddenly, rough brown cloth, like the side of a sack came through the bars of the window, bundled around various items. Ash's voice came again.

****

"Young lady," he called in a mock irritable way. **"I have a mere week to get you out of here and to safety, so will you make haste?" **Misty giggled as she unwrapped the bundle eagerly, like it was a Christmas present. She gingerly unwrapped a knife, a heavy grey woollen cloak and the rusty iron key to the door. 

****

"What's the knife for?" she whispered. There was a moment's hesitation outside before Violet spoke.

****

"Your…, oh, sister…"

"The bright orange hair has got to go," Ash stated bluntly. Misty didn't reply.

****

"It is far too noticeable, sister, you understand…"

Taking a deep breath, Misty held the knife in one hand and her braid taut in the other, she swung the blade down, hacking at her plait until it fell to the floor, glinting in the reflected moonlight from the blade that severed it. Was it a sin for women to take upon themselves the fashion of a man?

Finding herself filled with determination, she fumbled blindly around the damp floor for the thick soft rope of hair, limp, like a severed limb. She ran her finger down it, before pulling her hair ribbon from the bottom of it with a deft movement, and stuffed it up her sleeve.

Hurriedly, she pulled on the cloak and up the hood as she heard the rooster crowing. Kicking her hair under the bench, Misty took a triumphant look around the room where she has been imprisoned. Smiling mischievously, she let the sinful words play around on her tongue and escape her lips.

****

"Sir Thomas, go to Hell."

They walked their horses silently to the front gate, as Violet explained that she had overheard Sir Thomas promising her as a replacement for Misty to Sir Gary, so there was no way she was staying behind. Rearing their animals back when they met Ash's grazing at the gate, the trio sped off into the night, grins of pure relief on their faces as the sky cleared, and as the clouds moved to reveal the stars, it looked like someone was lighting a million tiny candles in the heavens.

****

"On to Palletonshire!" Ash yelled happily on the quiet road; the dangers that lay ahead of him forgotten as he exchanged excited glances with Misty, riding along beside him.


	6. 6 : Waves

****

Kaleidoscope: 5

Southern England, 1555

****

"Ma'am? Milady?"

The wavering feminine voice pierced unwelcomingly into Misty's subconscious; parting foggy clouds of confusion that had settled around her brain. **"Are you awake miss?"**

"Violet?" Misty murmured, half in, half out of reality. As the voice laughed sweetly, Misty's eyes opened to slits of teal and white. Black…white… The intense light from the window nearby made the back of Misty's forehead throb, cursing that it was so bright on a winter morning. **"Violet? Ash?"**

Panicked, she sat bolt upright, to come face to face with a young girl, hair obscured by a nun's whimper.

****

"Milady, your travelling companions are safe and well. You were the only casualty," she stated carefully, rising from her kneeling position by the side of the hard bed Misty had been lying on, and smoothing down her black overdress; crystal rosary beads swinging at her side.

****

"Casualty?" Leaping up on shaky legs, and gingerly touching the back of her head, where dried blood was matted into her hair, Misty attempted to intimidate the young nun by pointing her finger and narrowing her eyes. **"Where is my sister?"**

Tutting her tongue against the roof of her mouth exasperatedly, the nun paced over to the hyperventilating red-head and tartly slapped her round the face. Immediately she reeled backwards, clapping her hand to her mouth and cursing inaudibly underneath it. Dropping the sweet martyr-like voice, she spoke to Misty frankly, wringing her worn hands tiredly as she spoke.

****

"I am sorry. A few days ago you and your travelling companions were attacked by members of the Resistance. Your horses were taken. You were knocked off the saddle and hit your head. Your sister and squire brought you here, and we've been taking care of you since."

Misty's brain digested this information slowly. Yes…yes she could remember…very vaguely. It was almost like dream she'd had in her childhood… but slowly, slowly everything came into focus as her head twinged with stabs of pain less and less. 

Suddenly, the door to the small room burst open, and Violet practically flew into the room, screeching to a halt by the bed. Ash awkwardly lingered in the doorway.

****

"Misty! Oh thank the Lord you are awake I just got told I've been so worried," Violet babbled on excitedly, not even pausing to breathe. Misty smiled at her elder sister, then let her eyes stray to the darkened doorway, where her sleepy eyes met Ash's heavy ones, that dropped away from the gaze as he turned from the door and walked down the corridor.

~*~

It was definitely abnormally bright out here for December…

But it was bitterly cold…most probably going to be a white Christmas after all.

And _he,_ the great soon-to-be Knight had just panicked and sat completely still when those Italian forces had attacked. He saw slight Violet wrenched from her horse's back, and then it rearing angrily as it was forcibly mounted. Misty had kicked out at the man trying to grab her, but pushed her heavily backwards, and she fell to the ground, hitting her head backwards with a sickening crack. And then quiet. 

They left, laughing at their game. And she lay so still on the road…and he had just sat there, through it all. 

****

"Hi there," came a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice. Ash looked up as a young man, just a couple of years older than himself, dunked an armful of easels and oil paint next to him. **"You look like you could use some cheering up, friend!"**

~*~

The Reverend Mother placed a cool, wrinkled hand on Misty's forehead. 

****

"Bless you dear child," she smiled, after Misty thanked them warmly. **"It was not we who kept you safe but the Lord." **Misty fidgeted uneasily; she had never been around religion that much with Sir Thomas running the household. 

****

"Though my sister and I are most grateful for your hospitality," Misty began, **"we feel we must leave as soon as grace may have it. We are on a rather important pilgrimage and in our lands current state of unrest we wish to move quickly." **The Reverend Mother nodded in agreement, and the apprentice nun from before escorted Misty and Violet out of the room, kissing the Reverend Mother's hand in respect as she left, staring at them meaningfully to copy her actions.

****

"Pretty child - lovely manners…" The softly lilting voice came from the corner of the room thoughtfully. 

****

"You see a way to make money out of her?" the Reverend Mother asked her niece, jovially. 

****

"Not at all auntie," replied the young lady, uncrossing her legs and leaning forwards on the wooden chair. **"I like that girl; got some fire in her. Her sister's probably like her** - **they could travel** **with us for a while, for protection auntie-"**

"They shall not, Duplica!" rasped the old nun, outraged. **"I shall not have those respectable young ladies degrade themselves by even being seen travelling around with you and those gypsies of yours! To think you could have led a life of service, married to the Lord, but you had to run off with that farmer - and now where is he child? Where is he now? Leaving you pregnant and unmarried - a niece of my own…and now you travel around in a rickety caravan when you are…how many…6 months en enfant? Singing for your food like a common woman of the gutter!" **

The old lady's words droned on and on, unrelenting as Duplica remained perfectly still on the chair, not one tear escaping her large brown eyes, and one arm reaching down to protectively pat her rounded abdomen. Now she was even more certain the red-head and the rest of her companions would travel with her…

~*~

Ash watched as his new friend's charcoal flew across the white page, the carefully smudged lines taking the form of a girl's face, with large smiling eye. The black smudged fingers stopped moving and Tracey held back the front bits of his dark green hair as he slowly blew the excess dust away.

****

"You have talent, I'll say that," Ash said respectively. **"It's a clear resemblance to the good nun that was looking after Lady Misty." **Tracey nodded, holding the paper at arms length and scrutinising it carefully. 

****

"It's no use," he began, as he opened his folder and showed Ash various charcoal sketches, oil paintings, pastel watercolours, all of the same subject. **"I can't seem to get that _thing_."**

"Thing?" Ash repeated blankly.

****

"The thing that makes her so perfect…" Tracey stated dreamily. Ash stared at him for a minute, then burst out laughing.

****

"You're in love with a NUN?! Lord, friend, that's even more hopeless than me being in love with the Queen of France!" His giggles subsiding quickly, he looked at Tracey's saddened face. **"Um, I mean, I know just how you feel…"**

"I love her so much, I would marry her tomorrow!" Tracey declared, smiling. **"And she loves me too, she won't come out and say the words, but her heart speaks to mine… She is only in the stage of apprentice… she has not yet taken her vows…" **Ash looked at Tracey warily, sweatdropping.

If this is what being in love does to a person…I hope I never fall in love,****he thought.

~*~

Sister May teased a lock of her brown hair out from underneath the suffocating whimper and twirled it around a finger on her free hand as she continued picking tomatoes from the Monastery garden. Straightening up, she put her hand on the base of her spine as she looked out into the reddening sky. A smile played on her lips. Tracey…the Monastery painter…he was probably out in the hills somewhere, being_ artistic_ as he put it. 

Then why wasn't she?

Pulling off her whimper in defiance, and throwing it into a corner of the shrubbery, May slipped out of the garden door and wandered through the field. It was in fallow that year, and had nothing but a soft carpet of clover growing there, so May slipped off her tight fitting black shoes and walked barefoot. 

She really wished things could be different. She loved the Reverend Mother, whom she looked upon as a true mother, but how she wished, _how she wished _she wasn't living in this convent. She dreamed of having her own little home with a man who loved her, her own children and not to spend her days quietly in prayer with no real friends; constricted by rules and fear.

Watching him devotedly decorate the halls, and pitch in with various odd jobs, May could always find delight in watching him perform the most menial and monotonous tasks…slipping into a sinful fantasy world where she was in his arms, and he was kissing her in the loving way her father used to kiss her mother before they both died, leaving her with no one but the church to turn to.

Still, they couldn't change her dreams or control what she thought…

****

"And maybe…just maybe…" May said out loud to the wind, **"as long as I only keep it in a secret part of my head, there will be a little world where I live happily ever after, eloping from her prison of a home in the middle of the night with her dashing and charming painter!"**

Misty looked sadly at her new friend after overhearing these words.

****

"Sister May?" she said quietly as the young woman spun around guiltily. **"What's it like to be in love?" **

"Oh, Lady Misty!" May was flustered, her hands rose to her head in a vain attempt to conceal her lack of a whimper. Terrified, she flung herself to the floor at the feet of the younger girl. **"Forgive me. I will do penance."**

"I shall not speak a word of this," Misty reassured her gently, pulling her from the ground. **"Tell me, please." **May paused, hesitantly.

****

"You know what you feel like after you spin around and around in circles?" she answered, holding her arms out and demonstrating. **"You feel like that all the time, but you do not get ill… and you think about that person every moment of the day, and you truly feel you'd do anything in the world for them. Anything at all…" **May's voice lowered to a whisper. **"Oh, but sometimes it hurts so bad…"**

"What does?" Misty asked concerned, touching May's shoulder.

****

"That I can't be with him…it hurts so badly…like a knife in my stomach every hour of the day…and I'm scared…"

"Scared about what?" Misty asked soothingly.

****

"I'm scared that I'll go to Hell," May whispered between tears. **"Even when I'm saying Penance he's in my head, and he won't go away…and I don't think I want him to anyway…"**

"May, what about all the other people in the world who are not priests or nuns? My parents, your parents…did your parents go to Hell? Do you think that May?" May shook her head.

****

"No, my parents were good people…they loved each other very very much-"

"Exactly!" Misty interrupted. **"Love is not a sin. If you and your painter love each other, everything will be fine…you can both travel with us as long as you need to; friend, this is your chance…Violet, Ash and I - we are leaving tomorrow with Mistress Duplica and her friends…you can come with us…we can take you away from all this…both of you."**


	7. 7: Kites

****

Kaleidoscope: 6

Southern England, 1555

Misty picked disdainfully at her clothing. Across the rocking caravan, her sister sat leaning against the wooden side, reaching up to try and control her ungroomed hair. Violet plucked a lone blade of straw from her dark locks, and dropped it in startled astonishment. 

Ash giggled at them; two perfect manor ladies bunged in a gypsy caravan, dressed in Melody's dresses, with a nun and monastery artist huddled together in one corner, and the squire of their uncle –

Ash physically winched as he remembered that the time when he'd have to return to Aylesbury drew ever nearer. He was crazy going off into the country with these people when he would just have to double back, and quickly, but he couldn't leave them; he had bonded with all of them. Tracey, May, Violet – even the mischievous, and extremely scandalously pregnant gypsy Duplica.

And Misty, he meant _Lady _Misty – how could he tell her? He who had pronounced himself her hero and protector, was running off to fight a war, far far away, leaving her and her younger sister alone in a world that was new and harsh to them.

Ash glanced around the small wooden box again – Duplica was up front, driving, and the rest of the troupe were walking behind. His deep brown eyes cast upon May and Tracey in the corner, and immediately he blushed and averted them again, a blush quickly formulating on his cheeks. Yet, curiously he had to look back, inconspicuously out of the corner of his eye.

Not that the couple would have noticed anything; their faces seemed moulded together, and Tracey's hand was roaming dangerously high up May's long legs, pushing her skirts higher and higher. Ash swallowed and looked away again.

Ash wasn't stupid – he was 15 years old, and many boys his age and profession were already bargained off in marriage to middle-aged widows. Ash swallowed again, deeply, making his throat gulp as a picture of him and Misty flickered into his adolescent mind. Fiercely blushing with the rush of testosterone, he desperately pushed the image away, and focused his eyes on his feet. 

~*~

****

"Sit down you daft woman!" scolded one of the female gypsies as Misty watched in amusement as Duplica tried to get up and join the traditional dancing around the fire at dinner that evening.

****

"What would Todd say if he knew we were lettin' his beloved wifey dance around like a loony; bump bouncin' everywhere?" laughed another, as she poured Duplica some water. Duplica folded her arms and pouted.

****

"Melody, I'm a big girl!" she mocked. **"I can take care of myself and the littlun!"** she declared, patting her protruding bump again. Melody sighed in exasperation and left the caravan. Duplica turned her puppy-dog eyes onto the other woman. **"Suzie…"** she whined. 

****

"You stay 'ere mistress," Suzie stated solemnly. **"There's things afoot; that messenger on the road said so." **Duplica scoffed.

****

'Oh yes, the Italians have landed, and the first thing that they'll do is attack a harmless gypsy troupe, and if they see a pregnant woman, they'll go for her first! Let's be realistic here please!" Suzie ignored her, and wagged a finger warningly as she backed out of the caravan to return to the warmth and security of the fire.

****

"Now dunna be lettin' her up Mistress Misty. Woman with bubbas need lots o' rest." Misty nodded as the woman left. Duplica sighed, almost blowing out the candle that provided the only light in the dim little box. There was silence for a moment.

****

"So, what's your story Lady?" she suddenly asked wryly. **"You're either running away from something, or eloping with the young man who makes me wish I was a few years younger!" **She laughed, showing Misty what was said was only a tease. Misty trusted and felt at ease with the friendly girl, whose voice betrayed her rich upbringing, and did not hesitate.

****

"My stepfather tried to marry me off to a man in his forties-" Duplica's eyebrows raised. **"And not just any man, but a disgusting, perverted, slimy, PATHETIC excuse for a human being!"** Duplica blinked at the venom in each spat word. Misty gasped in astonishment at herself. **"I-I'm sorry, please excuse my outburst. I don't know what's come over me lately…"**

Duplica smiled, in a way that suggested she knew exactly what had come over the young redhead lately. 

****

"It's quite alright I assure you. Please continue."

"I-I refused, and he locked me up, and said that I married Sir Gary or would starve, and if I died in my protest, my sister Violet was to marry him…Ash is my uncle's squire – he helped me to escape…and here we are."

"Poor thing," said Duplica, quietly. **"I wonder if I may briefly indulge myself in telling you my story – and how I came to be here?"** Misty nodded reverently, and the teal haired woman smiled. **"As I supposed you can guess, I am too a Lady of breeding – my parents are the Lord and Lady of Denham; it's to the east of Aylesbury and Risborough – nearer to London,"** she explained. **"I hated that life – as I predict you will grow to in time, and since a young age I befriended the village children. I was an only child, and very lonely. Suzie and Melody,"** she gestured out of the open hatch towards the people by the fire, **"were simple children – the daughters of a seamstress and the blacksmith, but they're the best friends I've ever had. And then, five years ago, when I was thirteen, I fell in love with another one of my dear friends – Todd."** She indicated her expanded womb with a jerk and a laugh**. "This is his handiwork…" **

"So were you two really in love?" Misty asked wistfully.

****

"Yes we really were," the girl answered sadly. **"Father found out – had him recruited off to the wars. I just had to get out of there – Mel and Suzie came with me…we came across this band of gypsies, I found out my singing isn't all that terrible and…as you put it…here I am."**

Misty stared silently at Duplica, feeling waves of different emotions – pity, sadness, envy? Duplica shifted her back from the wall, and lay down on the hay.

****

"I think I'll sleep now; thank you for listening to my rambling Misty," she smiled.

****

"Anytime, friend." Misty smiled back.

~*~

What time was it? Midnight? Ash had no idea, and bluntly didn't care. He lay under the stars, alone on a bed of hay a little way away from the campsite, and wondered.

The sky was so beautiful…The sky was so beautiful? Since when did Ash Ketchum think or say things like that? 

Turning back to look at eternity in the stars, Ash felt the cool night air brush lightly across his face, soothing his throbbing headache. He had to leave her tomorrow. Mouthing that sentence quietly made him ache inside, and his head throb stubbornly again. 

Maybe it was a good thing he was leaving her – he didn't trust himself around her any more not to say or do something stupid. Was she even aware that she seemed to grow more and more stunningly beautiful each and every day? That's all she was to him – the annoyingly beautiful spoilt brat who got on his nerves every three minutes without fail. Everything irked him – the way she painstakingly braided Violet's hair every morning, the way she ate, the way she almost seemed to snarl when she yelled at him (which was often), the way she smiled at him and made him feel up to saving the whole country single-handedly…. the way that he felt about her. 

Love, like, lust? All he knew was that deep inside some primordial urge inside of him yearned to be near her all the time. 

Misty roused and stirred. The whole tiny room echoed with snores and grunts till she was driven to distraction. Sighing, she wearily rose to her feet, and walked away from the noisy caravan, swatting straw off her skirts. 

Ash saw her coming through the trees long before she saw him. His heart leapt up into his throat, and his palms instantly grew clammy. Duplica's flowing dress accented every curve in Misty's young woman's body. Ash raised his voice.

****

"Hey, over here!" Misty looked around – startled but smiling. Her teal eyes sought out her friend among the bushes, and she sat down on the itchy hay next to him. 

"It was too noisy in there," she explained, gesturing towards the caravan in the distance. **"Couldn't sleep."**

"You can sleep here with me." Ash offered quickly, patting the hay and grinning. **"Plenty of room!" **Misty laughed.

"I have done less appropriate things! Thank you." She lay down, and arched her back into several positions till she was moderately comfortable. Ash watched her, his happy expression turning serious.

"I have to leave tomorrow." Misty shot straight up.

"Wha-what? Why?"

"I have to go and fight in the war with your uncle – you know that I'd have to go at some point Misty…"

"No!" stammered Misty, horrified. **"There is no way I'm letting you go off into a war you fool; you'll be killed! There must be a way…no…" **Ash grabbed Misty's flailing hands and enveloped them close to his chest. 

****

"Shush…" he consoled the girl. **"It will make it all the harder if you worry, for I know that I shall be fine. I have to report back to Duke Aylesbury…the sooner I go the sooner I can come back…to you." **Misty cried harder, allowing her head to bow forwards in a half-hearted consent, and to rest on his shoulder. Ash moved his hands away from hers, and hugged her closer to him in guilt. 

And suddenly, Ash got an awful feeling that tomorrow would be the last time he ever saw her. So he decided to ask her.

"Misty, when I come back I'll be a Knight, I'll have 'Sir' before my name," he teased. **"And then, maybe then I'll be good enough for you…" **Misty pulled away from his shoulder, and looked at him in shock, their faces simply millimetres apart. 

"Why do you mean?" she croaked. **"Of course you're good enough for me you stupid boy!"**

"But I'd never be allowed to marry you," Ash blurted out, horrified too feel the warm wetness of tears forming in his own eyes. **"You're a Lady, I'm a servant. But if I go to war, and I come back, I'll have honour, and then maybe we can be together." **Misty opened her mouth, but he covered it with his hand. **"Please don't say anything – I know you'd never want to marry me, ignore me, it is nothing but a fool's dream." **Ash let his hand drop dejectedly to his side, and looked the silent girl mournfully in the eyes.

"Dearest Ash," she said, slowly and carefully. **"Any Lady in any manor would be more than happy to have you as their husband and master…"**

"But you see that's the thing! I don't want to be your master, I want to be your husband, the father of your children, the man you depend on and grow old with! I want your love but I also want your respect." Ash interrupted, almost angrily, and bitterly.

"Will you let me finish!?" Misty yelled in exasperation. **"Ash, it doesn't matter to me what word comes before your name…" **The tight knot in Ash's chest began to untie itself. **"And now you're going to be a stubborn man and go off and fight your silly war, and afterwards, you're going to come back and I'll be waiting for you." **Ash's eyes brightened.

****

"Does this mean…"

"It means that I feel very compelled to be Mrs Ketchum, instead of Lady Oak," Misty grinned. Ash started to laugh softly, out of relief and happiness. He reached out one hand to gently cup her wet cheek. 

"Did you know you get more beautiful every day Myst?"

"Oooh, sir, how long have you been saving that compliment?"

"Too long, my darling."

The two teenagers started happily into each others eyes, basking in the glow and security their unofficial betrothal gave them. Ash finally broke, and pulled Misty's face to his. They stayed like that for a while, each content to be with each other; sometime their kisses were long and deep, and others were simple brushes across lips.

As well as the burning sensation around her heart, Misty felt what seemed like a lump of ice in her stomach as she remembered he had to leave her. Her heart broke with the short time she had with him, and as a result her kisses grew more urgent and the gypsy dress that Ash admired on her so, became an obstacle…


	8. 8 : Stars

****

Kaleidoscope: 7

Southern England, 1555

She smelt slightly like vanilla, and she felt soft underneath his slightly rougher skin. But along with the faint pain of untangling himself from Misty at dawn, came the realisation of what he did to her, crashing down upon a mortified Ash. Violet's words echoed in his head, accusing him of making her beloved sister 'impure' and 'unfit' for the grace and mercy of God. He brushed a piece of hay off her cheek.

Ash groaned under his breath as he tried to cover her up with his coat. He stood up shakily, watching her as she slept, and snuggled closer into the canvasy, brown fabric of his coat. Ash flopped down on the grass a little way away, and squinted against the pink brilliance of the sunrise. Today he'd have to make his way back to Aylesbury, and meet up with his master. 

And go off to fight a war. 

~*~

-

Misty shot straight upwards with a gasp, her short hair falling messily around her ears, clutching the strange and rough material to her body. In puzzlement, she looked down and around the campsite, and groaned. She knew she should be berating herself, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling in delight as she realised that last night had not been a dream. Violet's going to kill me, she thought, laying back down on the remarkably comfortable pile of hay, and realising that not only couldn't she care less what Violet thought at that moment in time but also… that she could hear her little sister calling her name.

****

"Hell!" Misty cursed, as she sat up again, shocking herself with her bad language, but at the same time, managing to be pleased. She leapt from the ground, clutching the coat to her as she desperately scanned the area for her clothes. She scooped up and struggled into her under garments, her petticoat and then finally into Duplica's gypsy dress. 

****

"Coming, sister!" she called, as her sister's voice grew more frantic. 

Random gypsies wished her a good morning as she wandered towards the main caravan where Violet, Melody, Duplica and Ash were standing, him trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Her eyes met Ash's over the top of Violet's head, and her breath caught in her throat – she would never have thought her biggest dilemma would be wondering what to say.

Ash looked at her openly, smiling slightly, and obviously oblivious to everyone else. On a sudden whim, she quickly winked at him without anyone noticing and he grinned broadly. She wasn't so lady-like anymore…

"Where have you been, sister?" Violet clucked, disapprovingly. **"You look very tired and… rumpled…" **There was a snort from Ash that he rather unconvincingly managed to turn into sneeze, and Duplica suddenly looked at him sharply, with one eyebrow raised. 

****

"I… went for a walk to see the dawn," Misty bluffed, watching Ash snigger to himself with one eye. **"I just got a bit lost; there's no need to worry, dear sister." **Duplica turned her suspicious gaze over to her, and Misty faltered.

Luckily, before Violet could ask any more questions, Suzie, running by holding a large and squealing piglet in her arms as one would a baby, announced it was time for breakfast. The group made their way amicably over to the large fire where the rest of the camp was assembled; Misty managing to give Ash a loving pinch on the arm without heed from anyone.

****

"Where are Tracey and May?" Misty asked suddenly, realising she hadn't seen the refugee nun and artist since the previous morning.

****

"Well they went to search for firewood for yesterday's dinner, and when I sent someone to look for them… let's just say that they were _quite_ happy where they were and _didn't_ want to come back just yet," Duplica stated bluntly, keeping a careful gaze on the dark haired boy and the red-head sitting beside him. **"Busy place those woods, wouldn't you say, friend?" **

****

"I… guess," Ash mumbled, sweating slightly as he shoved food into his mouth.

****

"I'm done," said Misty after a while, climbing to her feet and smiling around at the circle. **"I'll go wash up at the stream before we depart."**

~*~

Misty splashed another cupped-handful of ice-cold water on her face, wanting in a way to wash off the betraying smile that would not abdicate her face. But she couldn't help it – every time he looked at her she could feel his lips on hers, and his hands on her waist.

Ash grabbed her around the waist, and grinned when he felt her jump.

****

"Shoo," she answered, flicking some water at him. **"I'm busy," **she teased. **"I'm about to get undressed and bathe."**

****

"It's a bit too late to be shy Milady," Ash teased back, with another lop-sided grin.

****

"You crude man. You are no gentleman," she grinned back, unable to hide her laughter. 

"Aw, you love it," he nuzzled into her ear, his hands roaming up to her bodice.

"I love _you_," she grinned, before letting him kiss her full on the lips as his reply. 

"You don't regret anything? You will still marry me upon my return?" he tried to joke, but the worry in his voice was evident to her. She smiled.

****

"I'd marry you now if I could," she answered, sincerely. He smiled back.

****

"Then I have something for you." He slipped his hand into his pocket, and Misty would always maintain that she knew what it was before it was in view. Presented to her was a dainty, old-fashioned silver ring. **"It was my maternal grandmothers," **Ash offered, by way of explanation as to how a mere squire would have such an object. **"And now, it belongs to my wife." **He smiled wider than she had ever seen as he slipped the ring onto her.

Misty held up the ring finger on her left hand and grinned even wider than before. Ash kissed her lightly on the forehead, suddenly embarrassed.

"Will you be fine when I leave?" Ash asked in a troubled voice. Misty shrugged.

****

"I just… won't watch you go. You will have to forgive me that, my love. And I'll say goodbye every minute that you are not with me, so that it seems like we're only apart for a short time. Why – do you have to leave right now?" she asked in a panicked voice. Ash smiled as he felt her nails dig into his skin slightly as her hands latched on even tighter to him. He shook his head.

****

"I'll stay until the next town. There I'll have to hire a horse and make my way back to Aylesbury." Misty frowned.

"You've come awfully out of your way, simpleton," she reprimanded. Ash grinned down at her from his height advantage of 6-or-so inches.

****

"It was worth it. Now we'd better get back to camp before everyone comes to find us and sees us in this totally inappropriate position!" Misty raised her eyebrow; he was only holding her loosely around her waist.

****

"If _this_ is passionate, what was last night then, dear love?" she asked in a sweet voice, making him laugh and press his forehead to hers.

****

"And you used to be such a lady," he teased, before she pretend to slap his shoulder and he yelped for show. She grinned.

****

"Shall we return?" she asked in an equally sweet voice.

~*~

Ash survived the hot and dusty journey to Celadonshire on stolen kisses from his future wife. Luckily, the inhabitants of the caravan this time round were still May and Tracey, and a middle-aged, male gypsy who was passed out from the effects of too much ale and wouldn't notice if a horse dropped on him.

****

"I've never been to Celadonshire," Misty murmured as she snuggled up closer for him against the dank cold of the caravan. **"I've heard it's a beautiful place,,,"**

"It's like London," answered Ash, smiling. **"But cleaner."**

The two of them sprang apart as assorted calls of 'woah' were followed by the caravan wheels slowly grinding to a halt. The doors flew open, sending harsh daylight flooding into the caravan. It was Violet.

****

"Sister," she gasped, from lack of breath. **"Come quickly! It's them!"**


End file.
